


Loss and (Dis)Honour

by Imagine036



Series: Losing Sleep (and other things) [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen, Grief, Loss, but not really antagonism either, my take on the laurel/felicity scene in 3.03, not really friendship, the start of a cordial relationship?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine036/pseuds/Imagine036
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Laurel doesn't reply, not even looking up from the glass Felicity has just noticed sitting in front of her. The blonde's heart drops when she sees the dark brown colour of the liquid swirling in the tumbler. It's clearly alcohol, and one of the few things Felicity knows about Laurel is her struggle with alcoholism. She gulps and slowly closes the distance to the bar. She is not equipped to handle this; this is Oliver's area of expertise, or Captain Lance's. Hell, even John would be more useful right about now. But none of them are really available at the moment, so it looks like it's up to her."</p><p>Written before 3.03 aired. This is what I hoped the teased scene between Laurel and Felicity would be like, more in tone than anything. I just didn't want it to be some cheesy thing that brushed over the fact they've barely ever spoken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss and (Dis)Honour

**Author's Note:**

> So this is completely new territory for me. This has very little to do with Olicity, and it actually features Laurel. I'm actually kind of surprised that I wrote it...
> 
> Disclaimer: Arrow isn't mine.

She tries not to outwardly fume as she jerks the door to Verdant open. In addition to Oliver demanding she remain behind in Starling while he, Digg, and Roy went off to find Thea, Ray is making it his personal mission to interact with her as much as possible. It's like he's set on being her best friend when that's the last thing she wants. He's constantly around, looking over her shoulder and over-enthusiastically making small talk. Her patience is running thin, even though she's only been working for him for a week. After her absence from her Tech Village job the week before, though, they'd fired her and she was desperate. Funny, how she gets fired during an actual family emergency after months of ignoring the job for Arrow work…

Drawing in a shaky breath and pushing thoughts of Sara aside, Felicity squares her shoulders and tries to regain her focus. She can't bring her personal feelings down into the lair anymore. They have a job to do and Oliver's made it perfectly clear that personal feelings have no place in the mission. Not anymore. She just needs to head down to the basement and boot up the computers to let her male partners know where to look for the agent Lyla asked Diggle to track down while they were in the area, and then she can go home and work her way steadily through the brand new pint of mint chip in her freezer. She's been going through a fair amount lately, but she can't bring herself to care.

She's so wrapped up in trying to shut down her ever-whirling brain that she doesn't notice the other occupant of the bar at first. Verdant has been closed ever since Slade's attack, with only Team Arrow filtering in and out of the building. When her eyes finally land on the woman sitting atop the barstool, Felicity skids to a sudden stop, anxiety piercing her stomach before she recognizes her.

"Laurel?" She blurts out, unable to temper the shock in her voice.

The attorney looks up at her, eyes dull and melancholy. She's dressed in one of her typical power suits, but she looks nothing like the confident lawyer she was a mere two weeks ago. Losing your sister can do that to you.

Now her stomach clenches with nerves. She and Laurel have never been alone in a room together before and the protocol here is uncertain. There's no Oliver around to be a buffer and Felicity is pretty sure Laurel won't be very tolerant of her nervous babbling right now.

She clenches her fingers together in front of her in an effort to maintain her calm. "If you're, uh, looking for Oliver, he's not here."

Laurel doesn't reply, not even looking up from the glass Felicity has just noticed sitting in front of her. The blonde's heart drops when she sees the dark brown colour of the liquid swirling in the tumbler. It's clearly alcohol, and one of the few things Felicity knows about Laurel is her struggle with alcoholism. She gulps and slowly closes the distance to the bar. She is  _not_  equipped to handle this; this is Oliver's area of expertise, or Captain Lance's. Hell, even John would be more useful right about now. But none of them are really available at the moment, so it looks like it's up to her.

Standing awkwardly beside the bar, Felicity gathers what little courage she has and speaks up gently. "Look, I know what you're going through must be… Hell." She draws in a shaky breath as Laurel's finger traces the rim of the glass. "But Sara wouldn't want-"

Laurel's eyes snap to Felicity's, blazing with rage. "How would you know what she would want? Was she  _your_  sister?"

She swallows again, rearing back with the force of Laurel's words. "N-No, but-"

"Then don't talk to me like you knew anything about her," Laurel bites out, returning her eyes to the drink in front of her.

Felicity is just about to sigh in defeat and retreat to the basement when she feels a coil of anger in her gut. Laurel may have been Sara's sister, but why does that mean Felicity can't mourn her loss as well? She's been feeling it for two weeks, watching Oliver rip himself to shreds over it while she, Digg, and Roy can only watch. It's been hard on all of them, and Laurel has no right to belittle that. Felicity has spent so long thinking she has no right to be angry, but in this instant, it's all she can feel.

The realization straightens her spine and brings her to her full height as she lets her anger take control. "You know what? You're not the only one who lost her. She may not have been my sister, but she was my friend, and I'm grieving her, too. So don't accuse me of not knowing her just because we didn't share genetic material."

Laurel looks affronted, but Felicity is too emboldened by finally letting the emotion take over to care. "How  _dare_  you-"

Felicity's eyebrows hike up her forehead. "Look, I get that this is beyond hard, but-"

"But what?" Laurel snaps scathingly, turning on the stool to fully face her. "Don't grieve? Don't feel sad because my sister is dead? Don't let the fact that she fell off a building and landed at my feet get to me?"

She takes a deep, steadying breath. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? To wrap it up because it's been two weeks? I should be over it by now?"

Felicity bristles, not up for being Laurel's punching bag. "Stop putting words in my mouth. I didn't say any of that."

"But it's what you meant, right? Enough of watching Laurel wallow after yet another person leaves."

"You make it sound like she had a choice in the matter," the blonde spits out. "Look, Laurel, you have every right to be as sad as you want for as long as you want. I can't tell you how to grieve. But what I won't stand by and let you do is use Sara as your excuse to drown yourself at the bottom of the bottle." Felicity pauses, sucking in a breath. "I won't let you dishonour my friend's memory like that."

With those words, Felicity reaches across and grabs the glass roughly from in front of Laurel, tilting it up and downing it in one go. She shouldn't be so harsh, but after the past couple of weeks, she isn't sure she has any patience left for anything other than frank honesty. The glass clacks against the counter as she slams it back down and heads to the basement without another glance in Laurel's direction.

* * *

 

Laurel takes up residence on a new stool in a new bar an hour after her conversation with Felicity, staring at a new glass of whiskey. Remaining in Verdant wasn't very appealing after the blonde basically tore a strip off her, but Laurel can't find it within herself to feel angry about it anymore. As her eyes get lost in the swirling liquid, she can't help but think there may be a point behind the lecture. Felicity is right. Sara wouldn't want her to fall back into the bottle.

Laurel grabs the bartender on his next pass. "Can I get a coke?"

The man gives her a strange look but acquiesces to her request nonetheless. Once she receives her new drink, Laurel shoves the whiskey away. She was never one for whiskey, anyway, but Sara didn't beat around the bush with 'fruity' drinks beyond making them for others. In fact, Laurel only ordered the drink because she knew it was what Sara would have drank.

"Not strong enough for you?" A male voice inquires.

Laurel turns to face the man who slides onto the stool beside hers. His dark hair and skin catch her eye despite her lack of interest in being hit on in a bar. "This one's just soda."

Instead of giving her a look like she's grown a second head, the man takes it in stride. It's refreshing, not being subjected to scrutiny or confusion. There's no pressure here, and she likes it.

Later on (she isn't exactly sure what time it is anymore, to be honest), Laurel exits the bar and leaves the man (whose name she learned is Ted Grant) behind, feeling better about herself than she has in two weeks. It's still not good by any means, but she's starting to feel like she can do this. The glass of whiskey is still sitting, untouched, on the bar, and the small victory bolsters her.

When she moves to hang her jacket in the closet at home, her eye catches on black leather. Her heart in her throat, Laurel's fingers close around the material of their own volition, pulling the jacket from its hanger and slipping it on. It still smells like Sara, and her eyes water at the familiar scent. If she closes her eyes, she can still pretend her sister is standing right in front of her. Except every time she does, she sees her broken body lying at her feet in that alley.

The urge to drown out the pain strikes her hard. After her earlier success, the sudden desire is a blow.

_I won't let you dishonour my friend's memory like that._

Felicity's earlier words ring in her mind, returning her resolve. The other woman is right. She can't dishonour Sara by using her as an excuse to take the easy way out.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Laurel pulls the jacket more tightly around herself, starting to think maybe there's a way she can  _honour_  her sister's memory instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this doesn’t exactly fit as well with Losing Sleep, but I kind of tied it in with the idea that Laurel spent a lot of her night at the bar trying to resist the urge to drink instead of sleeping. I didn’t really like some of the second half, but I needed to get to that Black Canary hint at the end there, and I’ve never really been very good with Laurel. Their conversation also kind of took a weird turn on me and it took some effort to get it back to where I needed it to go. Hopefully it wasn’t too harsh on either side. The main point I was going for was Laurel lashing out and the whole ‘dishonouring Sara’s memory by using her as an excuse to drink’ thing.


End file.
